


Crash Landing

by Elwyne



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-01-18 19:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1439494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwyne/pseuds/Elwyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor's daughter lands on Pete's World.</p><p>(AU Jack Harkness introduced here: http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=43157)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jenny opened her eyes in darkness.

Vision: indeterminate, she thought. It could be night. Hearing: same. Light wind, insects, engine pings. Cool air on my skin. The cockpit must have broken open. Non-toxic atmosphere, comfortable temperature. She pulled off her mask and took a deep breath. Fresh air, crisp green life. Water nearby, a lake or slow-moving river. Her eyes began to adjust; there were stars above, a sliver of moon. Electric lights in the distance. An inhabited world.

Jenny returned her attention to her body. No pain to speak of; a few jolts she'd feel later. Everything seemed to work. She unbuckled her harness, pushed away the remains of the cockpit windscreen, and leaped to the ground. The soil was warm under her boots. The ship's trail smoldered, orange and black in the night. No flame; the grass was wet, the air humid. She was lucky.

An engine approached. Four-cylinder internal combustion. One of those worlds. Headlights turned a corner and bounced toward her over rough ground. She blinked in the glare. The vehicle pulled to a stop and a figure leaped out, a female Jenny's own size. "You all right?" she called.

English, Jenny thought. London accent, lower-middle class. Something familiar about it. "Fine," she said, imitating style and tone. Sounding like a local - not that she could claim to be one, given the wreckage at her feet. "I'm not hurt."

The other woman approached, picking her way over the charred ground. "You made quite a spectacle," she said. "Our call-in board lit up like a Christmas tree. Lucky for you I got here first." She offered a slim white hand. "Rose Tyler," she said. "Torchwood. Welcome to Earth."

"Jenny O'Malley." She returned the handshake firmly, pleasantly, adapting easily to the other woman's expectations. "Sorry about the mess."

"No bother. We've got people for that." She gestured toward the road; already Jenny could hear the noise of trucks approaching. "Do you mind coming with me?"

"I have a choice?"

Rose shrugged. "I can offer you a meal, a change of clothes, bed, bath, whatever you need. If you can manage on your own I won't insist. Though I can't promise we won't keep an eye on you." She glanced over her shoulder. "I will say, if you're still around when the police arrive, you might wish you hadn't been."

Jenny followed her glance. In the distance a siren wailed; flashing red lights drew closer. "All right," she said. "Let's go."

 

The jeep sped smoothly over the blacktop road. Jenny smelled tar, gasoline, rubber; everything burning, marring the pleasant grassy fragrance of the countryside. She rubbed her nose. Not the cleanest world she'd been on, and far from the dirtiest. Once again, she reminded herself she'd been lucky.

"So where are you from?" Rose asked.

"What's Torchwood?"

The other woman smiled. "Alien hunters."

Jenny glanced at her. Detected humor hidden in truth. "This world is isolated."

"Not really," Rose shrugged. "A bit close-minded. No matter what happens, they never quite seem to be able to accept that it's real."

"So my ship -"

"Could upset people. But they won't see it. We've a cover story all ready: meteor landing, radiation, all that business. They'll keep away in droves."

Jenny stared. "You lie to your own people."

"Help them lie to themselves. It's easier that way. The ones who are really interested in the truth, they come to us sooner or later. Then they learn."

Jenny gazed through the windscreen in silence. The lights of the city grew larger, nearer; more cars appeared on the road, more signs, more cross streets. More people: she could sense them.

"What is this place?"

"Earth."

Jenny frowned. "Odd. I thought it was destroyed."

"Where are you from?"

"Messaline, originally."

"Human?"

Jenny shook her head. "Time Lord."

Tires squealed. Jenny was hurled against the shoulder harness as Rose slammed on the brakes and pulled the jeep abruptly off the road.

"What?" she said. "How?"

Gasping Jenny loosened the belt against her chest. "You know them, then?"

"I know one. Knew one. But not in this universe."

Jenny stared. Rose's dark eyes blazed. Not angry, Jenny determined. Surprised, hopeful, doubtful, a little bit afraid. "What do you mean, not in this universe?"

"We came from a parallel universe. One where Gallifrey existed once, and the Time War happened. Then we came here. In this universe, as far as we can tell, there never was any Gallifrey. There have never been any Time Lords. How did you get here?"

"There was a storm," she said, remembering. Wandering too close to an expanding supernova, caught up in the cosmic blast, tossed like a toy plane in the fires of Hell. "A wormhole, I think. My instruments were damaged. I came out in free space with just enough fuel left to land. Sort of." She thought ruefully of that violent final approach, that first contact that knocked her unconscious and might have as easily killed her. "I don't actually know where I am."

"But you're a Time Lord. Of Gallifrey."

"I've never been to Gallifrey. It was gone before I was born."

"How, then? They all died."

"Not all. Not quite all."

Rose's eyes widened. "I see," she said. "Rather than Torchwood, I think we should stop first at my flat. There's someone you ought to see."

 

It was the same look on his face as the first time she'd ever seen him: shock, bewilderment, incredulity, a touch of anger. Otherwise, he was changed. Older, somehow, a touch of silver at his temples, his skin dry and lined. The sharp suit and coat she remembered were replaced by flannel trousers and a tee shirt - of course, he'd been sleeping. She opened her mouth to make the same flip remark she'd greeted him with all those years ago, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Jenny," he said at last. "Is it really you?"

She nodded, unable to speak. Her throat tightened and tears stung her eyes. Slowly he reached out and enfolded her in his arms. His touch was gentle; a single heart beat softly within his chest. Against her will, she began to cry.

 

Rose, it turned out, knew the story. She helped Jenny to a soft chair, a quilt, a cup of tea. She and the Doctor sat on either side of her, full of compassion, warm and accepting. Her family. 

"You dress like him," Rose whispered.

Jenny stared. The olive tee and black trousers were standard-issue on Messaline; the black leather jacket her own addition. Nothing like what her dad had worn. The Doctor smiled.

"You regenerated," he said. "But you kept your face."

"Didn't know I could get another one."

"I could. Before, when I was a Time Lord. When Rose met me -" he glanced at her, and Jenny could see the love between them as if it were a solid thing - "I was a soldier. I looked, in fact, quite a bit like you do now."

"She doesn't have your haircut," Rose smiled.

"Well, a haircut's hardly genetic. Taste in clothes, however -"

They laughed. The Doctor reached for Jenny's hand. "I can't tell you how happy I am to see you alive. To know you were enough like me. I always regretted how little time you had."

"Wish I could have told you sooner," she said. "I've had so many wonderful adventures, seen such amazing things -"

"Definitely your daughter," said Rose. They laughed again, all three of them, and then the Doctor grew serious once more.

"I'm no longer the last of the Time Lords," he said. "Now, it seems, you are."

She cradled his hand in hers, warm and moist and so human. "What does it mean?"

"No idea," he smiled.

"I've an idea," said Rose. "Let's get to bed. I'm knackered, and poor Jenny's just crashed her ship. She needs rest. We can discuss the meaning of life over breakfast."

"Brilliant," said the Doctor. "Allons-y!"

 

In the basement of the Torchwood tower, Jenny and Rose surveyed the wreckage of Jenny's ship. The building was tall, concrete, featureless; it could have been a bank, or an architectural firm, or any of a million businesses requiring offices. Only once one got past security might one see the level of technology employed there. Jenny saw some familiar things, and some that were entirely new; unique to the parallel world, she wondered, or simply outside her experience.

The ship, what was left of it, rested on a platform in a pit sunk into the middle of the room. Powerful lights shone down on it, illuminating every scratch, scrape, and ding. Technicians pored over the torn and twisted panels, the scorched fuselage, the shattered cockpit glass. Nearby, others had extracted the engine. Jenny shuddered.

"It's like they're seeing her naked," she murmured.

Rose laid a gentle hand on her arm. "They're her surgeons," she said. "The best in the world."

"Still," said Jenny. "It doesn't look good."

"I'm afraid not."

The two women walked around the rim of the pit, looking down on the ship and the techs at work. The engine, Jenny saw, wasn't in much better shape than the rest of the ship. Much of it was melted together, fused into a heap of useless slag. "Poor old girl," she muttered, wiping her eyes.

Rose shook her head in amazement. "How on earth did you come out of that? Not even a scratch on you."

"I was born to take a beating," Jenny reminded her. 

"Still. Maybe we ought to have a doctor look at you."

"I'm fine. Minor contusions have all cleared up. Slight concussion of the spine lingers, but it should be gone by tonight. I heal quickly. And that's not Time Lord DNA, that's engineering."

"I know, I know. You'll tell us if you need anything?"

"Of course."

It was remarkably difficult to lie to Rose. Her look seemed to penetrate one's very heart. But Jenny managed, and the older woman finally turned her eyes back to the ship. Jenny allowed herself a brief twitch of fear.

What do I do now? she thought. The ship was everything: home, transport, liberty, safety, refuge. Now, it was a heap of useless debris. This world lacked anything approaching its equivalent. Couldn't even get themselves out of the system, she grumbled to herself. How could she adapt to that kind of life, now when she'd seen so much?

For that matter, how had he? She opened her mouth to ask Rose, and quickly changed her mind. No sense letting them know she was even thinking it.

"I have to get to work," said Rose. "Do you want a ride back to the flat?"

"If you don't mind, I'd rather just go out on my own. Explore the city, you know?"

"Of course. Hang on a bit." She spoke briefly to a junior tech and the young man hurried away. A moment later he reappeared with a small electronic device in his hand; he passed it to Rose, who turned around and offered it to Jenny.

"Take this," she said. "You can call us if you need to, and we can find you if something goes wrong. All right?"

A small mobile communication device. Easily hacked. "Thanks," said Jenny, slipping it into her pocket. "See you."

 

Outside, Jenny zipped up her leather jacket and shoved her hands deep into the pockets. The weather was mild, but still she found herself shivering. The air smelled of petrol fumes and asphalt. She picked a direction at random and hurried away from Torchwood.

A few blocks away she found a park. The naked trees curtailed the roar of motor traffic, and the city odors mingled with those of dirt, rainwater, and damp. She strode across the sparse lawn toward a broad lake. Green algae blanketed the still surface of the water, adding a faint smell of rot. Nothing moved. The park was empty of people and animals, too cold and wet for city dwellers, she thought. The noises of the city were nearly lost in the stillness. She sat in a dry patch beneath a tree and took out the phone Rose had given her.

As she had thought, it was an easy device to modify. She quickly disconnected the GPS transmitter, rendering herself invisible. Then she scrolled through the contacts page until she found a familiar name.

Doctor.

Blocking caller ID, she called him. Voicemail picked up; disconnecting, she punched a few more buttons, pinging the GPS in his phone and returning the data to hers. She allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction, and the sense of helplessness that had been growing in her began to ease. Pocketing the phone once more she headed off in the direction indicated.

 

As she walked, Jenny allowed herself to experience the city. The people offered an endless stream of variety and sameness, so many faces, so much purpose, so alike in so many ways, so different. A businesswoman strode briskly in pencil skirt and heels, muttering softly into her headset, moving among the crowd with perfect accuracy while her mind worked miles away. Teenagers dawdled, two boys and a girl in black hooded sweatshirts, torn jeans, and sneakers, sharing a cigarette and spitting on the pavement. A small boy clung to his mother's hand and gaped in awe at the towers of glass and concrete rising around him. Two workmen carried a roll of heavy carpeting across their shoulders; Jenny caught a scent of alcohol as they passed.

Before long the crowds thinned, the streets grew empty, the buildings less imposing. A few sickly trees grew in tiny gardens and empty lots. Wooden doors were painted in bright primary colors. Cars became larger, moved faster, their passengers oblivious to their surroundings. Jenny moved along empty sidewalks, confident in her invisibility.

At long last she reached the edge of the city. A lone road stretched empty before her, edged with dead brown grass poorly trimmed. The sun had passed its peak beyond the clouds. Jenny began to run, the compact, efficient pace she had been born to, eating distance while retaining energy reserves. Miles vanished beneath her boots. Cars and trucks passed rarely, blindly, and she continued unseen.

As her destination neared, she slowed her pace. Her ears picked up distant voices on the wind. There were no trees or hedges to hide her; she dropped into the tall brown grass and crept slowly up the rise that shielded the excavation from view.

In the daylight the crash site looked immensely worse. The earth was torn in a great gash that seemed to run for miles. The soil was charred black as far as she could see. Men and women combed the ground for any bits of wreckage left behind, any trace of fuel, any hide or hair. Jenny wondered suddenly what the others had been told of her. Did they know who she was, where she came from? Did it matter, in this world?

She spotted her quarry on the far side of the crash site, and almost didn't recognize him. No long brown coat, no sharp suit; he wore denim, heavy boots, fleece and wire-rims. His hair remained as ever, wild, unregulated, a bit mad. Her heart ached. He stood with his back to her, tapping away at a laptop computer in the bed of a pickup truck, ignoring the calls of his fellows. She felt a sudden fierce surge of possessiveness. Her Doctor, her Dad; he ought to be with her, not wasting his time with humans. A lesser species, whether one was Time Lord or only Messaline; being both, she felt extra contempt.

Abruptly the Doctor looked up and turned to face her. He couldn't possibly see her, crouched down in the tall grass as she was, and yet their eyes met. He held her gaze a moment, then nodded briefly. He closed down the laptop computer; spoke a few unintelligible words to an associate; and strode across the clearing toward her hiding place. She shrank back to the far side of the rise, out of sight of the workers, and waited.

A moment later he was crouched in the grass beside her.

"You could just come say hello, you know," he said.

She shrugged. "Old habits."

"Of course." He laughed. "How's the ship?"

"Unsalvageable."

There was a moment's silence. "I'm sorry," he said at last.

Abruptly her tears returned, and with some effort she blinked them away. "How did you do it?" she asked when she could speak again. "How do you live in this place?"

"Oh, well," he said. "I've always had a liking for the place. Humans and their funny little ways. Their funny little backwards planet."

"But to be stuck here?"

"That too has happened before." He settled himself more comfortably on the ground. "And it's also true I'm not the man I once was."

Jenny recalled Rose's words. 'Not in this universe.' She looked sideways at the man beside her. Had he changed somehow? become something else?

"How's that?" she said carefully.

"Never mind." He touched her shoulder, a cautious gesture of paternal affection. "We're about to knock off for the day. Want a ride back to town?"

"I suppose."

 

She rode in the truck, sandwiched between the Doctor and the driver, a well-built American called Jack. Jack posed another mystery to Jenny; he seemed slightly out of place, more so than even an American should be. He had a worldliness to him that so many others lacked. Not the Doctor, not even Rose, but most people. In addition, he was an irredeemable flirt. When he found Jenny impervious to his blue-eyed charm, he only tried harder - until the Doctor informed him of her familial status. Then of course Jack demanded the story, which the Doctor delivered with rather more drama and embellishment - and less rejection - than she remembered from actual events. She said nothing throughout, keeping her eyes on the road ahead.

They returned to Torchwood Tower, where the Doctor headed down to the basement. Jenny reluctantly followed. The technicians had gone; her ship lay on its platform in pieces, spread over an area larger even than the original crash site, each component placed carefully apart from its fellows. Alone, and exposed. Jenny bit back sudden rage at the carelessness of these people.

"You're right," the Doctor said, peering through his wire rims. "This does not look good."

"I can't be trapped here."

The Doctor didn't respond; she wondered if he'd heard. "I can't do it," she said, louder. "There's got to be another way."

He frowned at her over his glasses, but there was humor in his eyes. "Well, then, what's the alternative?"

She gaped. "Surely you must have thought of something. How long have you been here?"

"I've been here eleven years and five months, give or take a fortnight. It's my home."

"But how can it be?" She seized the collar of his fleece jacket. "Who are you? How can this be you? Where is my father?"

His hands closed gently over hers; his touch was warm. "I'm sorry," he said. "The Time Lord is no more. Not in this universe anyway."

"What do you mean?" Her tears fell, and this time she let them. "How can it be?"

"Come on then," he said. "Time for a little chat." He led her gently away from the remains of her ship, into a small galley room with hard plastic chairs arranged around a hard plastic table. She declined offers of water and coffee, and accepted a seat. With a sigh the Doctor took a place across from her. 

"What did Rose tell you?"

Jenny shrugged. "She said something about a parallel world. And how there weren't Time Lords here, not ever."

He nodded. "There aren't Time Lords here. Never have been."

"What about -"

He stopped her with a gesture. "Jenny," he said softly. "I'm not a Time Lord anymore."

She gaped. "Then what -"

"I'm human."

Jenny let her jaw drop. It explained the sagging skin, the graying hair, the hint of weakness in his joints. She couldn't quite believe it. But as he gazed into her eyes, she saw the sadness there, the age, so different from before, and she knew it was all true.

"I'm alone, then," she said bitterly.

"No." He covered her hand with his. "Never alone. We may not be the same anymore, but I am still your -"

"No!" Her vehemence startled even her as she pulled her hand away. "My father was a Time Lord. He was better than this. Stronger, smarter. He would never have become one of them."

"Why not?" the Doctor said. "It's what he always wanted."

"To be less? To give up all that he was? For what? For a tiny little life on a tiny little world?"

He smiled with unexpected warmth. "Oh, yes," he said softly. "An ordinary life."

"But you can't!" She began to cry again, all the grief she'd carried since he had first left her behind, all the time alone, all those years of searching. Great sobs tore from her chest and would not be controlled. "You can't!" she said. "I've been looking for you so long, and now you're... you're human!" She spat the word, and through her tears saw the impact in his eyes. It hurt. Good. She turned away and let herself weep.


	2. Chapter 2

"Jenny," said the Doctor gently. "Look at me."

She glowered at him through her tears. His dark eyes shone with compassion, even love. She looked away.

"It's natural to be angry," he said. "There's a period of grief -"

"What would you know about it?" she spat. "It's all you ever wanted, after all."

"I wasn't talking about me." He gestured past her toward the door. She turned; the American, Jack, stood there in the doorway, the same pathetic look on his face as the Doctor wore.

"Sorry as I am to say it," said Jack, "welcome to my world."

 

Over dinner at the flat they told their respective stories. Jenny picked at her food and answered her companions' questions in monosyllabic grunts. She knew she was being childish, but somehow she couldn't stop herself.

"Take your time," the Doctor said. "Look around. Get a feel for this world. There's a place for you at Torchwood if you want it."

"And you'll always have a home here," Rose added. 

The Doctor nodded his agreement. "We'll clear out the spare room for you."

"And if all that's too domestic for you," Jack grinned, "you can always come along with me."

"Where?" Jenny asked, radiating scorn.

Jack spread his arms wide, palms upward. "Anywhere on Earth. And if we're very lucky, somewhere not on Earth."

"You've been here nearly two hundred years," she sneered. "What makes you think you're going anywhere?"

The grin broadened. "I'm an optimist," he said cheekily.

Jenny pushed away from the table. "This is all very educational," she spat. "But the fact remains that I am stuck here." She stood up quickly, knocking over her chair. "I know what you're trying to do. It won't work. It's not okay, and it will never be okay."

Three faces looked back at her with sorrow. Jenny turned from them in frustration and raced out of the flat.

 

The air outside was cool and still. Along the waterfront the organic smells of the river almost overwhelmed the asphalt stench. She looked up into the empty sky, but low clouds hid every star.

Footsteps approached, deceptively casual. Jenny merged into the shadows. Men's heavy-soled boots, long relaxed stride - the American. She let out the breath she was holding and turned to watch him approach.

He was a handsome man, she had to admit, but at the same time entirely untrustworthy. The worldliness she'd seen in him at the crash site - it was a warning, an indication of an amoral mind. He would bear watching. Preferably from a distance.

"Why are you following me?" she snapped as he drew near.

He stopped short, startled, and turned his megawatt smile in the direction of her voice. "Thought you might want to talk," he said, as his eyes searched the shadows.

"Why would you think that?"

He shrugged. "You're the Doctor's daughter, and you've been alone a long time. It's a dangerous combination."

She snorted. "You know him well, then."

"Not as well as I'd like." The grin turned salacious.

"You're disgusting."

"I've heard that before," he shrugged. "Which of my special faults has offended you?"

"You're stupid. And you're a sheep. And you're disgusting."

A string of expressions crossed his face. She felt a tiny surge of pleasure at discomfiting him, and then a wash of shame. Why am I being such a child? she asked herself.

"Okay, then," said Jack. "Sorry I asked."

With a sigh she stepped out of the shadows and let him see her. "Sorry," she said, offering a guileless smile. "I'm just upset. I've had my freedom for so long, but not... I found what I thought I was looking for, and it turns out the cost is too high."

Jack nodded, understanding. She cocked her head, child-like, and frowned in affected confusion.

"If you're not from here, originally," she asked, "how did you get here in the first place?"

"Vortex manipulator. It burned out in transit, though. That's what I get for traveling several billion years at a go."

"Can't you fix it?" 

He shrugged. "You said it. I'm stupid."

"What about the Doctor?"

He stared at her. "You know, I never thought to ask."

"Eleven years and five months and you never asked."

He grinned sheepishly. "What can I say? Stupid."

"Can I try?"

"To fix it, you mean?" He shrugged. "Sure. But keep in mind it's tuned to my DNA." He waved a finger at her. "No running off without me, if you get it working."

She drew an X across her chest with one finger. "Cross my heart."

 

Jenny followed Jack to three separate crash pads, digging through boxes full of junk and closets full of coat pockets before they finally found the tattered leather gadget decorating an anatomically overwrought stone fertility statue from a vanished tribe in the Amazon. "They should have held onto it," Jack said of the statue. "Maybe they'd still be here, and I'd be gone."

Jenny ignored him, running her finger over the lifeless electronics. The vortex manipulator did not seem to be in much better condition than her own transport; however, the means to repair it were much more likely at hand. Torchwood, she thought. They ought to have what I need.

"Torchwood ought to have whatever you need," said Jack. "Let's go."

Jenny stared after him as he dashed up the cellar stairs into the city night. The way he echoed her thoughts upset her. Maybe they did have something in common. She shook her head to clear it. There was no one for her but the Doctor. Gathering her resolve, Jenny hurried to catch up.

 

"Where do you want to go first?"

Biting back annoyance Jenny glanced up from her work. Jack stood in the window, gazing up at the empty sky.

"Anywhere but here," she said.

"That's pretty open-ended," he said.

"Do you have any suggestions?"

"Oh, I don't know. I suppose a lot's changed in two hundred years."

"I'm not even in the right universe," Jenny muttered. Electronics sizzled under her tools.

Jack chuckled. "So it's all new again."

She shrugged. "I suppose."

The last connection sparked, and the displays lit up. Jack turned toward her with a broad grin. "You did it!"

She grinned back. "Course I did. I'm not stupid."

He took the manipulator from her and strapped it onto his wrist. "We ought to give it a test. Where do you want to go first?"

"How about the roof?"

"Sounds good." He set the coordinates as she linked her arm through his. The world shimmered, went black, and then they were on the roof.

"Beautiful," Jack breathed.

Jenny looked around. City lights glittered around them in all directions. A light wind tossed her hair into her face. Jack slipped his arm around her shoulders and murmured in her ear.

"Where to now?"

She looked at him with a bright smile. "Well, you know me," she said, drawing a slim knife from her belt. "I've got an awful lot of running to do."

 

The flat materialized around her, still and silent. A single sleeper breathed serenely in the bedroom. Good, thought Jenny; the Doctor had received her message. He'd be heading to Torchwood now, and out of her way. She drew her knife, still dark with Jack's blood, and crept soundlessly down the hall.

With his woman out of the way, her father would be free to join her. All would be as it should.

The bedroom door hissed against the carpet as she pushed it open, too softly for any ears but her own. Hidden beneath a heap of blankets the sleeper breathed on. Something tugged at Jenny's attention - something subtly wrong, a sound out of place, a smell. Pausing, she tightened her grip on the knife. The Doctor was out; Rose was alone in the bed, unarmed and unaware. Nothing remained between Jenny and her goal. She took one final step forward and flung back the blanket.

The Doctor lay on the bed, looking up at her with profound sadness. She leaped back in alarm.

"Have you forgotten everything I taught you?" he asked quietly.

"How did you know?" Jenny asked, her voice tight.

"Jack called me."

Jenny glanced at the blood on her knife, the blood on her wrist where she'd drenched the vortex manipulator in DNA. "Impossible," she hissed.

The Doctor sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He looked suddenly his age, all the years of the Time Lord piled up at once in his bearing. "You don't know Jack," he said, without a hint of humor.

Jenny dropped the knife and scrubbed her hand against her trousers. "I'm sorry," she said. "I had to have you. I couldn't be alone anymore."

"You never have to be alone."

"But I was. I don't have your magic. Everywhere you go, people love you. They listen to you. But not me. There's too much of the soldier still." She looked down at the blood on her hands. "I was born to be suspicious, to be dangerous. No one wants to travel with that."

"I do," said a voice. She whirled around in terror.

"I killed you!" she shrieked.

Jack shook his head. His clothes were drenched with blood - his pale blue shirt nearly black with it, hands and face brown with smears - but his eyes were clear, the throat she had sliced to the bone undamaged, and he stood on his own two feet with no sign of weakness. Beside him, Rose gazed at her with compassion.

"You don't know me," said Jack.

Jenny bent over the vortex manipulator, fingers trembling as she frantically adjusted the controls.

"Jenny, no," said the Doctor. "Please, don't go."

"Wait," said Jack. 

Their shadows moved toward her across the floor. The room shimmered. Then Rose's hands closed on her wrists. The manipulator beeped. The Doctor and Jack gazed down in sorrow.

"It doesn't work," Jenny whimpered.

Rose slipped the manipulator off her wrist. "The blood is dry," she said.

Jack took the manipulator and strapped it to his own wrist. He held out his hand to Jenny. 

She stared. "But I killed you."

"I'm a forgiving guy. Come on. Where do you want to go?"

Stunned, she turned to the Doctor. "I would have killed them, and taken you."

"But you didn't," he said gently.

Tears filled her eyes. "How can you forgive me?"

Rose took her hands again. Jenny forced herself to meet her eyes.

"You were a soldier," said Rose. "You met the Doctor, and he made you better. That's what he does. But then he left you alone. You forgot."

Jenny nodded, and the tears poured down her cheeks.

"You won't forget again."

She shook her head. "Never."

Rose let go her hands and stepped back, slipping one arm around the Doctor's waist. Jenny stared at them in awe.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

The Doctor nodded his acceptance. "I hope you'll come again," he said.

"You'll always have a home here," said Rose.

Jenny looked at Jack. "I'm so sorry," she said again.

Jack shrugged, breaking into a grin. "Don't be," he said. "A woman with a knife is quite the turn-on."

"Jack," said the Doctor warningly.

"Sorry." Jack held up his hands in protest. "Sorry. I promise I'll be a perfect gentleman."

Jenny couldn't help it; she laughed. Rose and the Doctor broke into wide smiles.

"One more time." Jack thrust out his hand. "Where do you want to go?"

Jenny stared at the offered hand. Broad and welcoming, it promised adventure, excitement, partnership. She placed her own hand in it; cool strong fingers closed around hers. An alien hand. She smiled up at him, her first true and honest smile in this universe.

"Anywhere," she said.

Jack winked, and offered the Doctor a brief salute. "Until next time," he said.

Rose and the Doctor waved. The room shimmered.

Then the world, and her family, vanished. The thrill of adventure was hers again.


End file.
